Warhammer: Rebuilding the Golden Age Starting with Farming

Chapter 6 Looting Corpses, Repairing Trash

Andy stood amidst the pile of corpses, watching the group of refugees cleaning up the battlefield, and his logic core almost overheated again.

These people were indeed touching the corpse, but what they were touching was completely wrong.

A sallow-faced, emaciated man was laboriously cutting off a necklace of human finger bones from the dead man's neck with a knife, his face full of greed.

At his feet, in that pool of blood, lay a standard laser gun battery.

Although the battery casing was a bit worn, the battery indicator bar on the side still had two bars remaining.

What does this mean?

At the bottom of the nest, a laser battery with two bars of charge can be used to buy two days' worth of food or a bottle of filtered water.

As for that human bone necklace, aside from taking it home to make soup for calcium supplementation, Andy couldn't think of any industrial value for it.

Stop.

Andy walked over and kicked the guy in the butt.

The man shuddered in fright, and the bone necklace in his hand fell to the ground.

"Throw that bone away," Andy said, pointing to the battery on the ground. "Pick this up."

The man looked bewildered, clearly not understanding why he should pick up that cube that couldn't be eaten or ward off evil.

Andy was too lazy to explain.

In this dark universe, superstition is more terrifying than hunger.

These people would rather believe that a few bones can bring good luck than that a high-energy battery can save their lives.

Andy turned to look at Gamma-9.

Although this technical priest wasn't very bright, he at least recognized industrial products.

"Make everyone throw away the trash they're carrying."

Andy gave the order.

"I need metals, electronic components, ammunition, and fuel."

"Pile everything that can be burned, exploded, or electrified to the left."

"Throw all bones, flesh, amulets, and scriptures into the incinerator."

Although Gamma-9 felt it was a pity to burn the human skins engraved with the symbols of chaos, as he thought they were excellent research materials, the lingering effects of Andy's shots from earlier still made him reluctant to disobey.

Soon, a small mountain of debris appeared in the center of the hall.

Andy went over to sort the items, a process that was sheer torture.

The logistical nightmare of Warhammer 40K is vividly demonstrated here.

This pile only contains a dozen or so guns, but they come in five different calibers.

There were automatic guns that fired live ammunition, with calibers ranging from 8 mm to 12 mm, and there was even a homemade gun that used iron nails.

There are standard rifles that fire lasers, but the energy interfaces of these guns are not interchangeable; some are snap-on, and some are threaded.

This is the consequence of a lack of standardization.

In the golden age, all ammunition was universal, and all parts could be interchanged through modularization.

Now, to get all these guns firing, Andy has to hand-roll the bullets for each gun individually.

He sighed, picked out a few still-usable automatic guns and the laser battery that still had power, and threw the rest into the recycling bin.

"These metals can be melted down and recast later."

Andy dusted off his hands.

Now that the inside of the shelter has been cleared, it's time to look outside.

Andy pushed open the door and walked into the passageway outside.

The vehicle that had just smashed through the gate was still there, its engine still running, making that sputtering sound as if the pistons were about to burst out.

It looks like a half-track truck.

Its chassis should be an old-fashioned civilian mining vehicle, with two wide rubber tracks added to the back and two solid tires in the front.

But this is not the point.

The key point is the car's appearance.

To demonstrate their brutality and intimidation, the skinners welded spikes and chains all over the front of the vehicle.

Three dried-up corpses hung on the bumper, and several steel pipes with skulls pierced through them were stuck into the roof of the cab.

The whole car looks like a spiky iron hedgehog.

Looking at the car, Andy felt that the drag coefficient was astonishingly high.

These miscellaneous decorations added at least half a ton of dead weight, offering no tactical value other than increasing fuel consumption and reducing mobility.

If it hits a person, the spikes will actually get stuck on the body and obstruct the view.

Without saying a word, Andy jumped onto the hood of the car.

He stretched out his incredibly strong mechanical hands and grabbed the huge iron spike welded to the hood.

"Creak—"

A sickening metallic creaking sound rang out.

Andy snapped the wrist-thick steel pipe in half and tossed it aside.

Next came the chains, the skeletons, and the corpses.

He was scrubbing someone who hadn't bathed in a long time, frantically subtracting things.

Gamma-9 followed and saw Andy dismantling the car, which almost made him kneel down again.

"Sage... Sage!" Gamma-9 exclaimed, "You're dispelling the killing intent of this vehicle! Those spikes are the fangs of the machine spirit. If you pull out the fangs, the machine spirit will become weak and feeble!"

Andy didn't even turn his head; he was holding a piece of dried human skin that was covering the windshield.

"Still thinking about your fangs? They're just a damn burden."

"This cover blocks 40% of the view. I just want to ask, is the driver blind?"

Andy tossed the human skin to Gamma-9, revealing the dirty bulletproof glass behind it.

Less than five minutes.

The truck, which was originally menacing and terrifying and full of post-apocalyptic punk style, has been transformed into a bare, ugly but practical flatbed half-track.

Although it looks ugly, at least it looks like a proper industrial vehicle.

Andy jumped out of the car, lifted the hood, and a plume of black smoke billowed out.

The STC interface immediately displayed the analysis results.

[Prometheus-type multi-fuel internal combustion engine (severe wear).]

[Fault: Severe carbon buildup in the intake manifold, clogged carburetor injectors, and ignition timing retardation of 15 degrees Celsius.]

The fact that the engine could operate under such extremely harsh conditions without exploding is enough to prove that the Empire's basic materials science actually has some foundation; it's just that these users are wasting things too much.

Andy took a screwdriver and a wrench from the toolbox next to him.

He first removed the air intake filter, which was covered in black sludge and completely blocked.

Andy simply threw away the filter, grabbed a clean piece of rag from the side, covered it up, and tied it tightly with wire.

The air intake is now clear.

Then there's the carburetor.

He adjusted the fuel injection volume with a screwdriver, his precise operation controlling the opening and closing gap of the fuel injector to the micrometer level.

Finally, he reached his hand to the ignition coil and, relying on auditory feedback, fine-tuned the angle of the distributor.

"Puff puff puff... Buzz—"

The asthma-like coughing sound disappeared.

The engine sound became deep, consistent, and powerful.

The violent shaking of the car body stopped and turned into a slight, powerful tremor.

The Gamma-9 standing next to it was dumbfounded.

He had assumed that Andy removing the decorations would anger the Machine Spirit and cause the vehicle to break down.

Surprisingly, this car sounds even more exciting now than when it was new.

"This..." Gamma-9 started imagining again, "Is this the legendary 'purification ritual'? By stripping away the external superficiality, restoring the purest essence of the machine soul?"

Andy ignored him.

He threw the tools back into the truck bed and patted the oil off his hands.

This car can run 300 kilometers without breaking down, and that's enough.

The signal source for that hydroponic farm is located in an abandoned mining area about 300 kilometers away.

time does not wait.

Andy didn't want to travel with a bunch of burdens.

His body doesn't need to sleep or eat; having mortals with him would only slow him down.

Moreover, if that fragment carries an automatic defense system, it would be suicide for ordinary people to go there.

Gamma-9.

Andy turned around and looked at the one-eyed man.

"Sir, I'm here!" Gamma-9 stood at attention.

Andy took a repaired automatic gun and two magazines full of bullets from the truck bed and tossed them to him.

Gamma-9 caught it in a flurry of activity.

"Guard this door well."

Andy pointed to the door frame behind him that had no door panel.

"If anyone dares to approach, no matter who it is, shoot first and then ask questions."

"I'm going to take care of something, I'll be right back."

Gamma-9 held the gun as if he had received some kind of sacred mission.

"For Om Messiah! I will protect this sacred place with my life!"

Andy ignored his boastful words and jumped straight into the driver's seat.

The foam on the seat had long since rotted away, leaving only a few springs to rub against my bottom.

Andy turned the key.

Just then.

The old-fashioned shortwave radio in the car suddenly lit up, emitting a piercing static noise.

"Sizzle... Feed? Feed? This is Bloodfang Boss."

A rude, aggressive voice came from the speaker, accompanied by noticeable electrical interference.

"Vulture Squad, where have you been? Report back!"

"Did you take down that shelter? And where's the human skin I wanted?"

Gamma-9 turned pale upon hearing this sound.

That was the leader of the Skinners gang, the most ruthless butcher in the area.

Andy didn't even raise an eyebrow.

He reached out and picked up the microphone from the intercom hanging next to the dial, then pressed the transmit button.

"The Vulture Squad is dead, all of them are dead."

Andy's voice, amplified by the car radio, sounded exceptionally cold and devoid of any emotion.

The roar from the other side stopped abruptly, clearly not expecting to hear such an unfamiliar voice.

After a two-second silence, an even more frantic roar came from the other end:

"Who are you?! Do you even know who I am?! I'm going to skin you alive and hang you up..."

"You'll be here soon too."

Andy replied casually.

After saying that, he didn't hang up. Instead, he reached out and ripped the radio, antenna and all, off the dial.

"Click."

The world is peaceful now.

Andy casually tossed the broken radio out the window, put it in gear, released the clutch, and floored the accelerator.

The half-track truck roared, kicking up a cloud of dust, and plunged into the deep darkness of the bottom nest.